


The Scars

by SidheLives



Series: Pathfinder Chronicles [2]
Category: Mass Effect: Andromeda
Genre: Backstory, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-28
Updated: 2020-07-28
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:14:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25562650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SidheLives/pseuds/SidheLives
Summary: "If you don't mind me asking... what's the story with the scars?" Liam asked sheepishly as they sat alone in the Tempest's galley."When I was a kid I went looking for trouble," Sara responded, not bothered in the slightest by the question. "I found more than I could handle. It left me this for my trouble."The story of how Sara got her scars.
Series: Pathfinder Chronicles [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1852426
Kudos: 2





	The Scars

It was supposed to be an easy run.

Mouse had gotten the access code for the warehouse off one of the laborers. They didn't know what was inside, but anything could be flipped for credits if you knew who to sell to. Not that Sara was in it for the money, the others always poked fun at her for being an Alliance brat running with the duct rats. They had met up late, far after the circadian rhythms of the Citadel's inhabitants dictated they must sleep even in a space station where the artificial sun never need set. They crept through back alleys of the Wards, their childish, snickering bravado observed only by the always busy Keepers.

"Is this the one?" Sara's voice sounded too loud in her own ears. The warehouse district had guards, but there were always rats slinking around after dark and so they had paid them little mind. Knowing what they had come to do set Sara on edge, not with nerves but excitement. She ran with the Rats for that feeling: the thrill of knowing they could be caught, the adrenaline of getting away unscathed, and the spiteful joy of knowing how disappointed her father would be. "Mouse." She hissed. "Is this the right one?"

The boy's head swung around hard in her direction, his eyes, as always, slightly too wide. He was younger than her, but not by much, and had the distinct, bedraggled look of a child who had grown up on the fringes of society.

"Yeah, yeah, this is it." He looked nervously over his shoulder. "Think we can pick this up a little?"

Sara smirked. "Got someplace to be? Some girl waiting for you?" The others laughed and Mouse's back straightened, his expression indignant.

"You're an idiot, Ryder. Sometimes I think you like getting caught."

She shrugged indifferently. She had a longer rap sheet than the four of them combined. Even after years running with them she had never picked up the knack for slipping out of trouble they had all developed as young children ducking under C-SEC's gaze. "Open her up then." She gestured at the large roll door with the flat of her palm. As Mouse scurried to the keypad to unlock the way forward she stood back with the others.

"Door might be loud." Breather grunted, arms crossed. He was a wide set boy, younger than Sara and Mouse but bigger than either of them, with deep set eyes that never seemed to miss anything. "Might set the guards on us."

"We'll be quick. Zip zip. In and out." The girl was young, probably twelve, and thin as a whip. They called her Tips, and Mouse hadn't wanted her to come. Too young for something like this, he had said. Sara had advocated for her, convincing him she wouldn't be in the way, she was fast enough not to get caught, and that an extra pair of hands was worth it. She had been around the same age when she'd started slumming with the boys and had had to fight tooth and nail to earn a place with them. Tips was nimble and smart, but she wasn't built for the kind of rough housing that would earn their respect, and Sara didn't like the idea that she should need to.

"What's taking him so long?" Eezo was anxious as usual. He was jumpy at the best of times, but it made him the perfect lookout. His short stature and dark skin meant he naturally slipped under people's radar. He liked to brag that C-SEC had never caught him.

"Maybe it's a long passcode." Sara gave them a low wave indicating they should stay where they were as she came up behind Mouse. He wasn't typing and the display was blank. "What's the holdup?" She whispered, not wanting to agitate the others.

"I got a bad feeling about this, Ryder." His eyes flicked nervously between her and the keypad.

"Why? What's set you off?" Sara wanted to laugh off his hesitation, make a joke and get on with the heist, but something in his expression stopped her.

"We didn't even have to duck the guards to get here, they just conveniently happened to be patrolling when we slipped in."

"Convenient for us." She glanced over her shoulder at the others, giving them a reassuring smile.

"It's  _ too _ convenient, and I can't shake the feeling that we're being watched." His fingers hovered over the keypad, twitching with withheld movement and nerves.

Sara felt a shiver trickle down her spine. The funny thing about paranoia was that it often became contagious as soon as the feeling was voiced. She ignored the raised hairs on the back of her neck. She wasn't going to let Mouse, of all people, scare her. "The sooner you get the door open the sooner we can be gone."

"Fine. But I don't like it." He typed in the code. The mechanism gave an affirmative chirp and green lights around it flashed as the door began to slowly roll open.

Grinning triumphantly, Sara looked over her shoulder. "Eezo. Keep a lookout." The boy nodded and the other two clomped and capered to the door respectively. "Make it quick. Grab whatever you can, if it looks valuable more the better. Alright?" They nodded, watching the door come up with eager, hungry looks. Mouse still looked uncomfortable, but he nodded. They ducked under the door, Tips first, because of her small frame, the others close behind her. It was dark, the only light coming from beneath the still rolling door and the pulsing lights at its perimeter. Vague shaped patches of slightly darker shadows solidified into boxes and crates as the light spread. The warehouse was for one of the businesses in the Ward, but they hadn't done the research to figure out which. The boxes could contain anything from alcohol, to weapon mods, to model spaceships. Plenty were small enough to wrap their arms around and carry off, and Sara grinned with excitement.

A sound from behind them cut off her nefarious considerations. It was like a grunt combined with a squeal and caused them all to spin in alarm. Eezo was on the ground, curled up and clutching his stomach as he whimpered softly. Three turians stood beside him, all looked to be older adolescents and all wearing matching smug expressions tinged with violence.

" _ Spines _ ." Sara growled, hands balling into fists. She'd run up against the Turian street gang before. They liked to shake down the duct rats, rough them up, generally go out of their way to remind them that they were trash. Unsurprisingly, Sara wasn't their biggest fan.

"Thanks for opening her up for us  _ rats _ . Now scurry back to your holes like good pests." The largest of the turians condescendingly chuckled.

"Back off harpies. We were here first. This is our take." She hissed back.

Mouse sidestepped up to her. "Ryder, maybe we should duck while we can." He hastily whispered, eyes darting to the threatening trio.

"I'm not afraid of these overgrown pigeons." Sara did not whisper and Mouse flinched.

The turians chuckled and advanced on them, even their gait threatening. "You're Sara Ryder. Aren't you?"

"And you're an especially ruffled canary. Glad to know we're both familiar with each other." He was trying to get under her skin, unnerve her, except Sara was used to people knowing her name. She kept her chin high as they came towards her, even as she saw Mouse, Breather, and Tips slipping away. The Spines didn't pay them any attention, their ire entirely focused on Sara.

"You think you're tough, but you're nothing but a spoiled Alliance brat sticking your nose where it doesn't belong."

His face was inches from hers, she could smell his breath. "Get out of my face, you laminated peacock. Go play first contact war with someone else, we're busy." He growled: a strange clicking noise in his throat. Before Sara could blink his hand was around her face, talons cutting into her flesh. One sunk into the soft skin just in front of her ear, the other hooked behind her jaw, and his thumb dug into her chin. Her feet left the ground and she was slammed against the crate behind her, vision exploding into white sparks. She shrieked, the ripping, searing pain drawing tears in a flood to cloud her vision. Sara bit her tongue to stop the rolling waves of screams which clawed up her throat as he held her, her feet kicking uselessly and hands scrabbling at his wrist, clutching for leverage to lessen the incomprehensible pain radiating from her skull.

"Not so tough now, are you  _ brat _ ?" The malice in his eyes was all she could see, everything else blurred as the edges of her vision darkened. 

_ "Fuck yourself." _ She opened her mouth to say the words, but the sound which emerged from her lips was a strangled gargle. He laughed at her. Her face screwed up in anger at the sound, the movement pulling against the blades in her skin making her gasp slightly. She spit in his face, the doing was excruciating but worth it for the shock and fury of his expression.

He slammed her against the crates again, the searing, white hot, blinding pain reigniting as his talons shifted, ripping through her skin and sinking in to hit bone. Sara bit her tongue so hard she tasted the sharp metallic tang of blood, but it kept her from screaming again. "You don't know when to fucking quit." He brought his face close to hers, his voice dropping to a deadly whisper. "Humans are so soft. All I have to do is squeeze,” he did, his talons dragging against her skull, and she was unable to bite back a cry. “And no more Sara Ryder.” It was hard to see, but it felt like someone grabbed him, the arm holding her shifting slightly. He shook off the touch, attention focused on her. “I wonder if anyone would notice.” Sara went cold. She found herself hyper-aware of the hot blood dripping down her neck to soak her shirt, the light-headed feeling radiating from the base of her skull, the fact that she couldn't feel her toes or finger tips. Her vision narrowed to a pinpoint that was the Turian's murderous, shiny black eyes. Terror gripped her tighter than the hand around her face as the knowledge that he was going to kill her wrapped around her heart. Panic flooded her veins with adrenaline. She kicked harder, out at where she knew his backwards bending legs must be. Her hands dug into his fingers, her struggle making the claws in her face shift. She screamed now, let the fear and anger and pain roll out of her throat, the sound echoing through the warehouse, seeming to go on and on. She heard him grunt and the sound energizing her, making her fight harder. 

"Shut up." He hissed, slamming her against the crates a third time. Stars exploded in front of her eyes and she went limp as she lost sensation in anything that wasn't the rolling waves of pain and nausea rolling through her head. She knew she needed to keep fighting, if she stopped fighting she was dead, but her body wouldn't listen.

Suddenly another sound, something loud that wasn't her own screaming or labored breathing was echoing through the ward. A less threatening Turian voice from somewhere near her said "Shit. It's C-SEC."

"Spirits." Her captor growled. "Why the  _ fuck _ didn't you idiots grab the other kids?"

"Tiberius, we gotta go." She felt herself jostled as someone grabbed him, the one holding her,  _ Tiberius _ . He lifted her higher, then she was falling, his talons raking down her jaw and cheek as he slammed her head down. Her temple smashed into the concrete ground and everything went white.

_ I should have listened to Mouse, _ she thought, then darkness overtook her.


End file.
